The Blessed-Born Boy Scout

Luke and Noah. Noah and Luke. Alike in values and decency, but in personality, you couldn't have specially ordered them more different. Introvert versus extrovert. Neat freak versus clutter bug. Early bird versus night owl. Boxers versus briefs. Coke versus Pepsi. The list went on.

The name Luciano is Italian in origin, derived from a word meaning "light". The name Noah comes from a Hebrew word meaning "rest, comfort". In a house full of comfort and light, what could possibly go wrong? In a word, lots. But for those who enjoy complications, the fun of life is in the fixing, and with these two master fixers, whatever went wrong never stayed wrong for long.

People who met them as a couple, which was most people, when they later encountered either man without the other he would seem not lacking, yet somehow less than complete, like a star without the night's darkness to define it. The beauty was in the balance. Without Noah to steady him, Luke would work himself into an impassioned frenzy wherein anything resembling reason was nowhere to be found. As for Noah, someone who found fulfillment in taking care of others – and none so much as family – he loved life a lot less without Luke's spark to energize the scene. Add to that Luke's openness and vulnerability and the modern day cavalier Noah was born to be was in a hero's Heaven.

Some would call these two a recipe for dysfunction. Luke and Noah? Not so much, for never before had two lovers – lovers whose devotion had survived years of the universe making playthings of their lives – been more deserving of the freedom to lose himself in the other, without the fear of being lost.

And back to the subject of Heaven. As Belinda Carlisle was kind enough to inform us, Heaven is a place on Earth. What she didn't tell us was that Heaven could travel. In early 2009, Heaven was conveniently located in Noah Mayer's dorm room. (Location, location, location). That is, it was until it moved with them to their first apartment that summer. Heaven with a lease. Then came the first house: Heaven with a mortgage. Then came houses two, three, and four: Heaven, Heaven, Heaven.

Was it perfect? Hell no.

But that's what made it fun.

As scripts were sold and movies produced, houses grew larger. Their fourth and final house was one that they built. Blending Country Estate, Craftsman Home, Victorian manor, and Storybook Castle, it was something right out of a folktale, created to give a child's imagination room to roam, literally and figuratively. The rooms were larger than necessary (after being bound and gagged in a storage locker by two sadistic kidnappers, the two men shared a dislike of small spaces), with ten-foot ceilings, eight-foot-tall doors, secret passageways the two parents had fun pretending not to know about. There was even a tower: Tristan's Tower it was called – the location of his bedroom on the third floor, with Rory's directly beneath it on the second. The house would've made the Guinness Book of World Records were there a prize for the most fireplaces per square foot under one roof. For Luke, this rounded out the enchantment.

It took Noah a while to develop his paternal stamina, physically speaking. Oh he did just fine, better than fine, while he was awake but due to his overachieving attitude, Luke would often find his beloved husband strung out on the living room sofa as early as eight o'clock, Rory in one arm and Shane in the other as they snoozed on top of him, while Luke himself, ever energized by chaos, busied himself with dotting the day's 'I's and crossing its 'T's as another day crawled to a close. But somewhere around that fifth or sixth year, Noah could make it all the way to the final "I think I can" of the bedtime story before the sound of his own voice lead he and his children off to dreamland.

There was only one child old enough to have clear memories of a tall dark haired man falling asleep next to him, snoring like gravel in a blender beneath a thin, open, hardback book. The oldest child. Vladimir. He had especially clear memories of trying to get the book settled back onto his Papa's face at night, having picked it up to discover what eventually became of the green eggs and ham or if Raggedy Anne would every discover the identity of the cookie snatcher. He couldn't remember why it felt so important to reposition the book back on the bridge of his father's nose; he just remembered that it did. And his memory of the grin on Luke's face when he eased into the room to wake his sleeping husband was every bit as clear, as was the way he would ask Vlad every night "How did he do?" No matter the result, Vlad's answer was always "He did better this time." What he remembered most about this was how important it made him feel; his opinion mattered. Five years old, and what he thought mattered. And if what he thought mattered, then so must he.

Vladimir is a Russian name meaning "to govern with peace," and while oldest siblings may not necessarily have govern, Vlad's influence was unquestionably a peaceful one, smoothing the somewhat sharper edges of his younger brother, Chris, whom the boys affectionately referred to as Vlad's "co-captain". From Vlad's second nature head-counts to his effortless sibling wrangling (provided that Sven's sugar intake had been closely monitored), to his relaxed whose-turn-is-it diplomacy, he made being the oldest of nine look so easy. And to him, it was.

"Honey, are you trying to get our kid beat up?" Noah joked, after Luke suggested Vladimir for their son's name.

Luke's heart seemed so set on it, and while Noah took no pleasure in crushing his husband's hopes, he just couldn't talk himself into – and he did try – giving their child such a name. Disappointed, Luke agreed to either Christopher or Christian; they would decide when he was born. But at first sight of their newborn, Noah picked the conversation back up exactly where they had left it months before, saying "Okay. But only if we call him Vlad." Luke enthusiastically agreed (Noah slept extremely well that night after Luke's display of gratitude. Extremely well).

And so, Noah (and sons) called him 'Vlad'. Noah just liked the sound of it. It flew just low enough below the Apple/Blanket/Sunday radar to be unique – Vlad was, after all, the son of future moviemakers – without causing psychological damage to the name's owner. Plus, it just seemed to fit, both when Luke would use the complete name – a male mother's prerogative he figured – and when Noah shortened it.

Luke likened his firstborn to everyone's favorite lifeguard: just the knowledge of his presence made the other boys feel safer, emboldened them to take risks they otherwise would not – this was true even of the prouder types – and like any good life guard Vlad, without hesitation, would dive from his proverbial perch at the first sign of trouble to rescue a soul in trouble, or simply to aid in keeping them afloat, should they tire of treading water.

Vlad liked to think of himself as the flippers of a pinball machine, watching his brothers rocket through the gates, bumpers, ramps and targets until at last they rolled down toward him, at which time he would "flip" them back into play, until the next brother came rolling down. All the while, he enjoyed the show.

Though master of his own mind, Vlad wasn't the strongest willed individual. Resisting his innate tendency to be seduced by the path of least resistance was a lifelong struggle for him. Actually, not so much a struggle, more of a journey; Vlad wasn't really the struggling type. He was the antithesis of the 'jack of all trades and master of none'. What Vlad did, he did well. Exceptionally well. That which he did less than well, he simply didn't do. Was he afraid of failure or was it a genuine lack of interest. He himself couldn't even be sure. He was sure, however, that he wanted to be a doctor ever since his parents gave him that blue, toy stethoscope on his fourth birthday. Luke finally gave up trying to get the child to leave the toy at home, which meant everyone in whichever restaurant they happened to be in at the time got the gift of a free examination, whose remedy was always mysteriously located in the salt and pepper shakers.

A bit of a do-gooder boy scout (sound like anyone we know?) by his own admission, Vlad was constantly balancing his heart's two greatest desires: to be the cool big brother his siblings always wished to include, and to be a respectable figure for the others to follow. A self-imposed expectation, that one, as neither Luke nor Noah ever imposed upon him the goal of limiting his humanity by becoming the prototype of a well-behaved boy. Indeed, they made the conscious decision not to do so. At times Luke worried – mothers do that, male or otherwise – that perhaps they had been a little too successful in this endeavor, for though Vlad effortlessly garnered the respect of his siblings, he was not the strongest willed of individuals. That said, he was very much the mild-mannered master of his own mind.

The visuals:

To begin, take Noah, one month and some change from his twenty-first birthday. Subtract between five and ten pounds; Vlad was noticeably thin but not "skinny". Keep Noah's ovular face but slightly lengthen the chin to more resemble Luke's. Also add Luke's festive cheekbones and that jolly nose straight out of Santa's workshop. For his skin, apply Luke's fair, cream-colored complexion but rather than Luke's reddish undertones, use Noah's golden ones.

Now take the fluffy texture of Noah's hair (in its shorter phases) and paint it the color of a candle flame, when looked at through a clear glass jar of honey. Keep Noah's eyes in shape but imagine them two patient swirls of hazel and chestnut.

Dress him in virtually anything in the men's section of a Lands End catalogue and you've got a pretty good visual representation of Vladimir Phenris Snyder.

"Why so grumpy, Grumpy?" Vlad asked his Shane, who was already propping his elbow on Vlad's shoulder, leaning against him the way one leans against a trusted tree.

"Oh same old," Shane said. "June and Ward here were just tellin' me I gotta wear my Sunday britches to the Barbeque at Twelve Oaks tonight."

"Cut!" said Noah, sitting up to lean back against the headboard. "Let's take it again from the top: Ward has nothing to do with it. This is all my lovely wife's doing."

"Nice united front, Babe," Luke said, now settling down on the bed, next to his husband.

"Honey, we lost the united front six kids ago."

"Whatever you say, babe," Luke's attention went back to Vlad. "And just ignore Grumblepuss here. He doesn't cope well in a wardrobe crisis."

"Okay seriously," Shane said, "I thought we all agreed to stop callin' me that."

"Sayeth the boy who calls me 'Ma'."

"Well let's face it," Shane said. "If, God forbid, women ever become extinct, you're gonna be the first man to lactate."

Noah could stop the sound of laughter fighting to get through his lips. The spit spray that accompanied it? Not so much.

"Thanks. Thanks for that." Luke said.

"Well Luke you've gotta admit," said Noah, "you are quite the nurturer."

"Right. Making me a natural born breast feeder. No I get it. Cute. Very cute."

Noah looked at Dylan, now sitting on the end of his bed. "You might need to save me some room in that doghouse."

Vlad, his cheeks flushed from laughter held-in, looked at Shane for distraction. "So… wardrobe crisis?" he repeated, entertained. "Could I get some subtitles on that one?"

"Hoooold it. Time out." Noah had waited, almost patiently, for his oldest to bring up a certain topic. Wait over. "Vlad, you're killing me here."

"Ditto," Luke said. "How'd the exam go?"

Vlad shrugged an apology. "They hadn't posted the scores yet when I left. I stayed as late as I could without leaving Rory stranded at Java."

Noah gave him his crooked grin, with eyes that suspected his leg was being pulled. "Don't think I won't take you over my knee young man."

Vlad laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Pop, I swear, the second I hear, you'll be the first person I tell."

"Mm-hmm," Noah replied. "See that you do."

"So?" Luke said. "How do you think you did?" Everything about him: lively eyes, raised brow, excited voice, they more than suggested he expected good news was on the tip of Vlad's tongue, and it's true: Vlad aced it. He knew he did; he just wasn't the bragging type. "I guess I feel pretty good about it."

"He aced it," said Noah to his husband.

Vlad shrugged again. "I hope so."

"Know so," said Noah. "Remember, I was the guy with the flash cards."

Vlad's eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, no," he said. "I was so nervous about the exam I think I completely forgot to thank you."

Actually, it was a very un-Vlad-like maneuver, forgetting to express gratitude, but a kind nod from Noah said he already knew he was appreciated. "You don't have to thank me."

"Still," said Vlad, "I doubt there are many pre-med students out there whose "Papas" tossed aside their latest Hollywood movie to be their son's study-buddy."

Noah shrugged. "Well, too bad for them then."

"Plus, you did him the favor," Luke said. "Trust me."

Noah bumped Luke's shoulder. "Hey, do you know where the amygdule is?" he asked. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

Luke bumped back. "Oh so you're qualified to perform brain surgery now?" he countered. "Yeah, I didn't think so." Then he leaned forward to whisper a secret, only without the actual whispering. "And I'll bet it won't be the last time mister director here gives you a helping hand in the study department."

This won a curious look from Vlad, and a suspicious look from Noah.

"He bought index cards today," Luke told the boys. "In bulk."

Noah eyed the object of his affection. "Does nothing get by you?"

Dylan gasped. "Were they colored?" he asked, followed by Vlad. "Oh please tell me they were colored!"

"Aw God," groaned Noah.

Luke nodded with glee. "Five assorted colors," he said. "All neon."

"Wha-…Bu-…" Noah stammered. "It was all they had."

Shane chuckled. "Aw yeah, Papa Bear. Out 'n' proud!" He looked at his brothers. "Fellas, sing it wit' me one time wouldja please…"

But before they could…

"Boys." Luke cut in. "First one to sing YMCA is getting sold at rock-bottom prices."

Dylan thought a moment. "Exactly how rock bottom we talkin' here?"

Shane followed: "Yeah, we talkin' blowout sale, everything-must-go kinda prices?"

Then Vlad: "Or is it an ebay best-offer-wins kinda thing?"

Noah folded his arms and grinned. "If all they've got are magic beans, we're takin' em."

The boys all inhaled their winces.

Part 2 of this chapter (it ended up getting so much longer than I intended) will be up asap. But I hope there's still some fun to be had here. And to those kind reviewers, I promise I will respond to you!!! Promise promise promise. I so appreciate the feedback, ideas, and such.

Sincerely,

Alwyn